


First Meetings

by Pepperweb



Series: Bloom [1]
Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Doll no.123, Episode 1, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperweb/pseuds/Pepperweb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘What’s her name?’ he asked still looking at the doll.</p><p>‘She doesn’t have a name,’ replied the Queen and at this he looked up at her in surprise. ‘She’s number one hundred and twenty three,’ she announced, ‘My mother gave her to me on my eleventh birthday.’</p><p>Well that spoke volumes. </p><p>What went on in Lord Melbourne's head, the first time he met the young Queen Victoria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers!  
> The response to my other fic has been amazing, thank you all so much for the lovely comments and support. It has massively encouraged me to write more between Lord M and Victoria.  
> In the meantime however, have this. It's more of a character study really than anything, I went back and watched the first episode again and was struck by their first meeting, so here's my take on what Lord M was thinking the first time they met.
> 
> Note: The words the characters speak are obviously not mine, but taken from the TV show. I've just tried to put down the thoughts and meaning behind them.

He waited in the entrance hall as his arrival was announced to the Queen. It was not his first visit to the Royal Household, no he’d come plenty of times before. He remembered the letter, handed to him by Earl Grey from the King, asking him to discuss the formation of a government. He remembered his hesitation, being ever so unsure as to whether he should hold office. But hold it he did until the excruciatingly memorable experience of being dismissed from office by the King. Although, it wasn’t all that bad as he’d returned to office the following year with a large majority from the general election. However, he fervently hoped he wasn’t going to get sacked by this monarch. At eighteen, he would have hoped she’d grown out of throwing her toys from the pram.

He knew very little about the Princess- Queen rather- Alexandrina Victoria. She had grown up away from court, very sheltered by her mother the Duchess and Sir John Conroy. Whilst Alexandrina Victoria had no reputation, for those two, theirs preceded them.

He stood by the fire and waited. A noise above him. And then an older lady, dressed in black descended the stairs towards him. It wasn’t the Duchess so this must be Lehzen, the governess. She looked him up and down scrupulously before saying ‘You can go in now,’ in a tone that clearly said she disapproved of him. He paid her no mind, many people disapproved of him; he wasn’t the only one with a reputation.

He didn’t hesitate on entering the room. She was stood waiting for him, dressed in mourning. He didn’t look up as, focused, he went down on one knee and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Her hand was pale, smooth, small.

He stood up, ‘May I offer my condolences on the death of your uncle, your Majesty,’ he said, the formalities slipping from his mouth easily, his face a practiced neutral expression.

‘He was always kind to me,’ she replied with a voice clear and well-spoken. He looked down at her, she was quite small. She probably only came up to his shoulders, but she held herself like a royal; precise and practiced. She turned and moved across the room, carrying on ‘Though he did have some strange ideas about who I should marry.’

Well, he wasn’t expecting her to come out with that. They had barely said two words to each other and she was already expressing her disapproval at someone who had had ideas about what she should or should not do. Never mind that that someone was the late King of England. Maybe it was that she didn’t have a chaperone, no Lehzen, no Duchess, no Sir Conroy, maybe it was that for the first time she could say what she liked. She was the Queen.

‘Yes I believe he favoured the Prince of Orange,’ he said in response, remembering that piece of information from somewhere.

‘A Prince with a head the size of a pumpkin,’ she retorted quickly.

Good grief! To say that he was taken aback was an understatement. What was he supposed to say to that? Was this what Queens were like nowadays? Boldly comparing the heads of Princes to autumn produce?

He just about managed to respond with ‘I see you have a keen eye for detail Ma’am,’ without bursting into laughter. He prided himself with being a contained gentleman.

Melbourne looked around for something to divert the conversation away from marriage and princes, clearly a topic the new Queen did not like. His eyes rested on a small doll sitting on a chair.

He glanced back at the Queen. Her eyes were wide and so, so blue. She was fearful. Of what?

‘May I?’ he asked but not waiting for a response he leaned over and picked up the doll. She was wearing a white dress and had a crown on the top of her painted hair. He could tell it was a treasured item, it must be to be in these chambers and it showed signs of wear so he made sure he held the doll gently.

‘What’s her name?’ he asked still looking at the doll.

‘She doesn’t have a name,’ replied the Queen and at this he looked up at her in surprise. ‘She’s number one hundred and twenty three,’ she announced, ‘My mother gave her to me on my eleventh birthday.’

Well that spoke volumes. To not give her dolls names but numbers. He could only imagine how many dolls the young Queen played with as a child, almost too many to count he’d guess. But this one must be special, to remember when she’d received it. It was a pretty doll, something maybe his own dear daughter might have enjoyed had she lived.

 ‘With the crown?’ he teased, mouth quirking up at the side.

She didn’t realise he was teasing her and said ‘That came later.’ A pause, ‘I made it for her on the day I realised I would be Queen.’

Melbourne set the doll down back on the chair gently before turning to he and asking ‘When was that?’

She moved a couple of steps around the room. ‘I was thirteen. I was having a history lesson with Lehzen, she showed me that family tree. I looked at it for a long time...and then I realised I was next.’

He watched her as she spoke. There was something beautifully innocent about her. She was young, very young but so untarnished by anything. She shone, whilst he was weathered, chipped, worn and scratched. This bright young thing, with all the expectations of a nation on her slender shoulders.

Then Melbourne asked, ‘Were you pleased?’

She paused. It was an interesting question he’d posed and he genuinely wanted to know the truth. It would reveal her character however she answered: pleased, gratified, surprised, terrified….

‘I remember thinking that my uncle’s crown would be too big for me,’ she said truth lacing her tone, but still smartly manoeuvring away from answering his actual question. It pulled a slight smirk and short laugh from him as he imagined her, a thirteen year-old princess worrying about how big the crown was. Although, looking at her, the crown would almost definitely still be too big for her. She was delicately built and that crown had sat upon the tall and imposing figure of William IV.

There was a pause, and then she was moving towards the window, ‘I believe you are acquainted with my mother’s advisor Sir John Conroy.’

Ah, that odious man. ‘I’ve met him,’ he replied, ‘But I would not say we were acquaintances.’ There was a beat, two, before he continued carefully, ‘He would like to be your personal secretary.’ And that was something he fervently did not want, that man already had too much power in the Royal household.

‘That is absolutely out of the question,’ snapped the Queen. _Thank the Lord._ But he did not let his relief show too much.

‘I see,’ he replied neutrally.

‘He means to run me. As he runs my mother,’ she explained, probably realising her outburst had been a little abrupt.

‘Well then you must have someone else,’ he said appreciating how perceptive she was. It was clear she was desperate to escape from the clutches of those who had stowed her away her entire childhood. She looked at him with wide eyes that he had no doubt would learn to be disarming.

‘Perhaps I might act for you,’ he suggested, trying to make it come across as casual, it would be extremely advantageous for him if her were to manage things, ‘There’s a great deal of business to attend to,’ he said. ‘Dispatch boxes are probably already on their way to you with documents that require your signature, and of course tomorrow is the Privy Council-‘

‘Thank you Lord Melbourne’ the Queen interrupted sharply, ‘But when I require assistance I will ask for it.’

And that was a clear dismissal. He’d overstepped somewhere. _Dammit_. He’d thought it had been going well until then, but she’d clearly found something he’d said disagreeable. Well now he had no choice but to leave.

‘In that case Ma’am,’ he said, bowing before her. And he left, stepping backwards so as not to turn his back on the Monarch.

Once out in the hallway he scrunched his hand angrily. He’d thought he was a better reader of people than that. But the Queen was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Monarchs he could talk to, women he could talk to, but this female monarch?

She was young, she was naiive, she was sheltered and she was powerful. He thought about what he had managed to learn from this meeting. She spoke quickly, often without thinking which meant she was likely to act the same way too- well she’d dismissed him quick enough, he should count his lucky stars she hadn’t dissolved his government too. And it was clear that she disliked anyone asserting authority over her. He’d been trying to be helpful, he would make a good personal secretary, never mind the political advantage, he knew his away around legislation. But the way he’d done it? Overloading her with information was probably not a wise strategy.

But she’d responded when he’d been friendly, asking her questions, wanting to know more.

It suddenly came to him. What the Queen needed wasn’t another person, standing over her, advising her, dictating her behaviour, isolating her. No, what the Queen needed was a _friend._

Well, he could definitely be that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
